


The Incident of the Time Travelling Circus Monkey

by Talizora



Series: My Tumblr Ficlets and Drabbles [10]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, HiatuStory July Challenge, M/M, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Secret Relationship, Time Travel, Victorian Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talizora/pseuds/Talizora
Summary: What is Sherlock Holmes's favourite colour? It's time to ask the man, the legend the real hard hitting questions! How do we find the true answers to these and many more questions? By asking the detective himself, using time travel, of course!





	The Incident of the Time Travelling Circus Monkey

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [H.I.A.T.U.S.](https://hiatustory.tumblr.com/post/162147942033/julys-theme-is-time-travel) July theme 'Time Travel'. Based on the below from [@platinumdream](https://platinumdream.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Prompt: Sometime in the future, Person X decides to summon the great Sherlock Holmes from the past. The device works and there stands Sherlock! ...Who immediately starts yelling at Person X because this is the THIRD TIME he's been called to the future THIS MONTH and no one understands how to leave him ALONE for John's and his bloody HONEYMOON. Sherlock explodes in front of Person X who stands there awkwardly. Why's he in the future THIS time? How does he get back? The rest is up to you!

Watson’s chest lifted and fell rhythmically with each breath, the sheet draped enticingly across his back, buttocks and thighs as if drawn by a skilled artist. I would never tire of simply looking at my companion. He was a beauty that, in my mind, eclipsed all others my eyes had seen in my thirty-eight years. 

I relaxed my weight back against the doorway where I stood. It was a perfect angle, right here, allowing me to enjoy the sight of my beloved as he slept. The warm sunlight that shone through the windows appeared to make Watson’s skin and hair glow with vitality. These last few days had been like a dream, a brilliant fantasy of which I hoped never to awaken from. If I died, and my soul carried on to heaven it would be only this moment for eternity. 

The thumb on my right hand drifted over my middle finger, where the ring my dear Watson had given me now lay. I had also given him a similar ring, made of gold, which had found a home on the index finger on his left hand. We could not be too careful if anyone suspected us of deviance it would bring Scotland Yard to our door for entirely undesirable reasons. 

We had recently travelled together to the countryside where my family owned a small cottage. It was secluded, private and perfectly suited for our clandestine holiday. It was not legal for us to love one another, let alone exchange rings and enjoy a honeymoon of sorts, but after the first _ incident,  _ I had been taken over by a desire to pledge myself to my dearest friend. 

I had not but a moment to realise the growing tightness in my chest was not from the building of soft emotions that looking upon my beloved usually brought on before my vision was all white and my body felt as though it was being squeezed through a tube much too small. I knew this sensation, it had happened twice before. Watson and I simply referred to these events as the  _ incidents _ . I was being summoned once again, to the future. 

I was pleased with myself when unlike the previous two times I had been brought forward through space and time I did not stumble or fall. I remained standing, in not but Watson’s dressing gown which I had thrown lazily about my shoulders after rising from our bed. At least the future Yarders were intelligent enough to offer clothes more befitting of their century, so I was reassured that my lack of proper dress would be rectified shortly. 

However, opening my eyes and allowing time for the bright spots to clear from my vision I was not met with the sight of the now familiar Officers, Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson but the sight of a classroom filled with children. All seated at individual desks, staring at me. I turned my attention to their teacher, undoubtedly the one who had summoned me here, the telltale device still flashing in their hand.

“Mr Holmes?” The teacher addressed me. 

“Do you have any idea how inconvenient I find it to be, when I am continuously called forth to perform for future generations like a circus monkey? My lady, this is the third time this month that I have been subjected to the whims of the, regretfully dim-witted twenty-first century populous. Pray, tell me what asinine case you would have me solve for you? Who stole the chalk from your writing desk perhaps?”

“We don’t use chalk anymore.”

“Wonderful, truly the future is magical and awe-inspiring in its uncomprehendingly advanced technology.” I growled at the vazey lecturer. 

“I’m sorry Mr Holmes, I’ve obviously caught you at a bad time. The eTiME has a thirty-minute recharge delay  _ sooo… _ While you’re here. Would you mind answering some questions from the class?”

“I certainly do mind, have you no sense of decency or privacy any longer?” 

“Oh! Right, you’re not wearing much. Let’s see if I have something…” The woman turned her back to me and bent down to rummage in a large bag that appeared to have been shoved unceremoniously under her writing desk.

I sighed, what the dalcop had said regarding the device’s required half hour of rest was true. Upon my second forced visit to the twenty-first century, I had attempted to send myself immediately back but had been unable to return myself to my dear Watson. Perhaps this time, I pondered, eyeing the time device that the teacher had casually placed on her desk, I would be able to snatch it at the last possible second…

“Here, put this on. It should cover you up a bit more than that robe!” The woman giggled, fluttering her eyelashes at me. She held up an astoundingly bright towel, I had never seen cloth dyed that particular shade of orange before.

My confusion must have shown on my face, for the teacher, realising my confusion at the towel which she offered, grinned brightly. “It's a beach towel, I find always having a towel at handy really useful. I guess Douglas Adams was right!” I took the offered towel and wrapped it around my waist. At least now if I happened to move or a draft caught the hem of Watson’s robe I would not flash the students with my privates. Small mercy.

Stealing that device seemed to be a more than suitable payment for my suffering, yes I decided, when this woman was ready to send me back I would snatch it from her hand and use it for my own desires, rather than being at the beck and call of others. 

* * *

I came out of the realm of dreams slowly, I wasn’t needed anywhere and so I could take my time to enjoy waking gradually, savouring the soft feel of the mattress and the warmth of the bedding that covered my form. I reached out with one arm for my bed companion, but I was dismayed to find the side of the bed empty and cold. With a huff of annoyance, Holmes had promised me not to bring work with him on our holiday, I rolled over onto my back and pushed myself up. 

Looking around the small bedroom of the cottage Holmes had arrange for our accommodations I could find no clues as to my best friends whereabouts. As I slipped out from under the bedclothes I discovered my robe was missing, Holmes had obviously taken it again. He seemed overly fond of the gown, but would not admit to the favouritism aloud when I had remarked upon it. Privately I knew Holmes enjoyed wrapping himself in my scent when I was otherwise unavailable to him, however, his use of the robe, while we were sequestered together in the country, did not make sense. 

“Holmes?” I called aloud to the empty rooms, I made my way to the doorway into the dining area looking around for my companion but was disappointed to find that room empty too. With a sigh, I returned to our bedroom and wrapped Holme’s much larger robe about myself. My eyes drifted again around the room, I noticed a strange pattern of dust that seemed to have formed in the doorway to the washroom. I had witnesses that exact pattern twice before, both occasions being the most curious incidents to have ever happened to myself and Holmes in our long years of friendship together. 

He’d been called forward in time again. I was assured to know he had not left my side voluntarily, for that would truly be a bitter pill to swallow, especially as this holiday was to be our faux honeymoon. I frowned at the dust for a few moments before giving myself a little shake and deciding that I would be taking breakfast alone this morning whether I wanted to or not. 

* * *

“Mr Holmes, may I ask you a personal question?”

I had been taking questions from the class for what seemed to me to be far, far longer than the required half hour. Most, but not all had been entirely boring and only required that the student simply read the accounts Watson had written and published to learn the answer. 

What did you study at University Mr Holmes? How did you know the Red Headed League was a sham, Mr Holmes? 

Did you really wear the hat, Mr Holmes? What is your favourite colour, Mr Holmes? Why did you become a consulting detective, Mr Holmes?

Ridiculous! Ludicrous! Absurd! Preposterous! I wanted to yell at the class, you are all wasting my time, your silly questions lack depth or insight into my life, the accounts of which are  _ apparently  _ publically available and well read amongst even the most common of folk. 

“I suppose you may, young master. After the, frankly appalling, list of questions I have already been expected to answer, what is my preferred colour indeed, I see no reason not to relay to you some private information that you desire to know above all else.” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose, Watson would be proud of me, my restraint in not simply taking the device and storming from the room to hide away for the required rest period before zapping myself back was astounding. 

“There are a few historians who have suggested that Watson and you were lovers, is that true?”

This question, I most certainly had not been expecting. Would Watson and I grow careless during our time together? Would we be prosecuted? For evidence to remain of our illicit affair even over a hundred and fifty years later… I knew that in the twenty-first century to which I had been brought forward no longer called the love between two men a violation of nature. Inverts in this time period were free and able to express their love for one another openly, even to marry and have children if they so wished… 

I hesitated a moment before answering the question, I could lie and say that no, Watson and I had only been bachelors and close friends who roomed together and preferred one another's company.  _ Or… _ Or I could tell the truth. For the first time in my life, I could tell someone outside of myself and Watson, that I loved and was loved in return. 

“Yes.” I found myself speaking aloud before I had decided what to say, “Watson and I pledged ourselves to each other, in secret for during my time such things are frowned upon. We exchanged vows and rings, we married in the old ways through Celtic ritual in the countryside.” 

It was at this moment that the time device gave out a shrill beep, breaking the silence that had rung like a bell after my impromptu confession. The half hour rest the machine required before being used again was done, without hesitating a moment longer, I moved as quickly as I was able and snatched the device from the teachers writing desk. 

Happily, I found the device had already been set to return myself to my own time, I pushed the button and watched with no small amount of smugness the expressions of shock and consternation disappear as the blinding white light blacked out my vision. 

* * *

I heard Holmes return when the soft thump of his feet landing on the carpet brought me out of my thoughts. I had been sitting enjoying the view of the fields and hills that surrounded the cottage with a steaming hot tea warming my hands. 

“Watson! Watson!” Holmes called, his voice high and overflowing with excitement. 

“On the porch, my dear!”

“Watson!” Holmes gasped and he rushed to my side. “I have it! I stole it! Ha ha!”

“Goodness Holmes, what are you talking about?”

Holmes grinned at me so widely, his teeth showed and his cheeks crinkled in the most adorable fashion. I felt my heart skip several beats and a flutter of butterflies started in my gut. Oh, how I adored this man. Holmes must have noticed the softness of my look, for he kneeled down, still wearing my robe I noted and his eyes seemed to fill up with some strong emotion. 

“John,” He said to me softly, taking one of my hands in his and placing in it a small oval shaped item. “please consider this my wedding present.” 

I looked down at my hand, Holmes had given me a strange looking device that I had never seen before but, somehow I knew what it was instantly. “Sher…” I stuttered, “Sherlock… Is this?”

“Yes, John. I know it is a bit early to renew our vows, but I do have a particular  _ date  _ in mind that I believe would be more than suitable… Marry me?”

_ The End.  _


End file.
